Page 11 of Goddess of Mayhem

“Who knew you, of all people, would become a whore’s little bitch,” Bastian rasps. I’m familiar with the sound, the rattling in his voice most likely caused by broken ribs.

Oren releases me and crosses his arms after Bastian’s insult, and I fly forward, dropping to my knees before landing a final blow that knocks him out cold.

“Brenner, inside with me. Now!” Director Rene cuts through my confusion. I look back at Oren, who just shrugs at me. I stare at him, looking for the answers he won’t give me right now.

The playful grin tugging at the corner of Oren’s mouth is so slight that it wouldn’t be hard to miss. Questions continue to pile as to why he would step aside and give me access to Bastian after attempting to stop me. Maybe I’m becoming paranoid.

“I said now!” the director yells again. Standing on my feet once again, I follow behind my boss as he leads me into PD, never taking my eyes off Oren’s as I pass by him.

The ambulance speeds into the parking lot as we enter the building. Refocusing on my surroundings—instead of what's happening outside—I notice that people are shying away from me as we walk through the halls. The director is silent as he takes me into an interrogation room.

Ironically, it’s the exact one I fucked Malia in three weeks ago. With the memory distracting me, I find myself touching the table where I’d had her bent over. I remember the feeling of her pussy perfectly wrapped around my cock. I hate to admit it, but I’ve never felt anything like it before.

The director's hand comes down and slams on the table, pulling me from the memory.

“What the hell is going on with you?” he hisses, digging a finger into my chest. “I know the Olins' appearance messed with your head, but you need to get it together. How am I supposed to cover this up, Brenner?”

That gets my attention. “Cover what up? I did what I did, and I won’t hesitate to repeat my actions if he runs his fucking mouth again.”

The director snorts as he runs a hand down his face. “You’re suspended until further notice, Agent. Your dad—”

“Mydadwould have done the same for my mother, Director.” He raises an eyebrow, and I realize what I’ve said as soon as the words leave my mouth.

I hate this hold that Malia has on me. I want to hate her.

No.

Ineedto hate her.

I became addicted to the feeling she gave me—happiness. Something I wasn’t used to feeling genuinely.

Malia Olin had given me a goal that was greater than the one I’d dedicated my life to. My need to claim her and make her mine trumped my obsession with taking down her family.

“What I’m hearing is that you are messed up over some girl,” the director states, resting both palms on the table and leaning forward.

But she’s not just “some girl,” she’s the one that made me feel something. The daughter of my enemy.

The daughter of the man who killed my parents.

“Am I dismissed?” I question, no longer willing to have my guard down and allow him to see the vulnerable parts of me.

To see the broken thing inside me, and witness as someone else that I love is taken away from me.

The director stands up straight, then nods once. “Leave me your weapon and badge.” He points to the table. I do as instructed, then walk to the door to knock on it so that the officer on the other side can open it. “Stay away from the Olins, Brenner. That last name has offered you nothing but pain. It is time to let go. When your head is right, then we will talk.”

I stand facing the door, soaking in his words until the door finally opens. I step through without offering a response. What I need is answers to my questions. The Olins can evade me all they want, but my name is still on the guest list for the ball.

I’ll get them, even if I never step foot outside of their home again.

Four

Liam

AFTERILEAVETHEinterrogation room, I make it a point to ignore the pointed stares aimed in my direction as I leave PD. The weight of their gazes is heavy on my back as I exit the building. Blood stains the ground where Bastian had been lying, the ambulance is gone, and the crowd that had gathered has now dissipated.

Oren is leaning against my car this time, and I swallow down the annoyance. Isn’t it too cold for these motherfuckers to try and corner me? I give him a look when I reach my car, then pull out my keys to let him know that I’m already done with this conversation that we haven’t even started yet.

“Why’d you step aside?” I ask, my voice thick with tension.

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